When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.

“Percy won’t’ve had time to answer yet,” said Ron. “We only sent Hedwig yesterday.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Hermione. “I’ve taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I’m getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins.”

“Good thinking!” said Harry, also looking up at the owls. “Hey, Hermione, I think you’re in luck—”

A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione.

“It hasn’t got a newspaper, though,” she said, looking disappointed. “It’s—”

But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

“How many subscriptions did you take out?” said Harry, seizing Hermione’s goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

“What on earth—?” Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. “Oh really!” she sputtered, going rather red.

“What’s up?” said Ron.

“It’s—oh—how ridiculous—”

She thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

...

YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.

“They’re all like it!” said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. “‘Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you…’ ‘You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn…’ Ouch!”

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<== попередня сторінка	\|	наступна сторінка ==>
The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, and Hermione and began shunting them out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs.	\|	She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

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